by Holly West
“But why, Lucian?” I said. “Why would he reveal himself just to disappear again?”
“All I know is that I’m freezing. I can’t think straight.”
“We’ll wait in the carriage then.”
We began our walk toward the other side of the building, where Elijah was waiting with the carriage. When we turned the corner, I heard Sam shout, “Isabel, hold up!”
He jogged over to us. I was so happy to see him that I hardly cared that he didn’t have Susanna with him. All that mattered was that he was here.
“I’m sorry, he got away,” he said.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said truthfully. “Are you coming home with us?”
He gave me a searching look and I saw regret in his eyes. “Aye. I’m coming home.”
Elijah whooped with happiness when he saw Sam, and the two of them embraced. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, mate,” Elijah said.
We climbed into the carriage and as we settled ourselves, Sam asked, “What the devil were you doing, running after Tom Clarke?”
“You know him?” I asked, amazed.
“Aye,” he said. “I’ve not seen him for ten years or more, but when I knew him he was a petty thief with aspirations for something better. Judging from the looks of him he never made it.”
I didn’t like this at all. What was Susanna doing with a common criminal?
I told him about Susanna’s visit and my activities of the past two days. I chattered on, grateful for something to cover the potential awkwardness between us. I didn’t want us to fall into an uncomfortable silence.
“Ah,” he said. “I was wondering what you were doing at the pesthouse yesterday.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You followed me?”
He smiled sheepishly and hooked a thumb at Lucian. “D’ye think I would’ve let you walk around London with only him to protect you? ’Tis a dangerous world out there.”
“Protect Isabel?” Lucian said. “It’s me that needs protecting, I’ll warrant you.”
Sam grew sober. “All jest aside, you’d no business pursuing Tom Clarke, regardless of the circumstances.”
“But I’ve got to speak to the girl again. She’s the only one who seems to know anything about what happened to Adam. And now that you tell me what a scoundrel Tom Clarke is, I can’t possibly forget about her. He might’ve kidnapped her, for all we know.”
“Yes,” he admitted. “I suppose so. Well, it’s a good thing I’ve returned then. If you’ll have me, that is.”
“Of course I’ll have you!” I squeezed his hand.
Alice and Charlotte were all aflutter when we arrived at the house. Alice, lamenting the fact that she’d not prepared an adequate supper for all of us, got to work and produced a lovely meal. We ate chicken pie, made with the roasted chicken left over from the night before, boiled salted parsnips and red wine. For the moment, my thoughts had shifted from Susanna and onto my happy household.
After supper, Sam asked me if he and I could speak alone. We went to my office, a cozy room just off of the drawing room where we could have some privacy. We sat down with cups of brandy and Sam heaved a sigh.
“I suppose you’re wondering what I’ve been up to.” He appeared thin and tired, and his clothing was dirty enough to make me think he’d not laundered it since he’d left. I wondered when, before tonight, he’d last had a proper meal.
“You’ve already told me. If you’ve been following me about I can’t imagine you had much time for anything else.”
He smiled wanly. “There’s that, of course.”
“You’ve not gotten yourself into any trouble, have you?”
“Not that I’m aware of. You’re not angry with me for leaving, are you?”
I took a sip of the brandy, letting it sit on my tongue for a moment before swallowing. “I was at first. I knew why you’d gone but I felt betrayed nonetheless. But a month, then two went by, and I became fearful you’d never come back—what was the point of being angry when I’d lost my dearest friend?”
“I’m truly sorry, Isabel.”
“I know it.” After a moment, I said, “The king’s asked me to live at Whitehall.”
“It seemed like you’d been seeing him rather often of late.”
“I’m considering it.”
Sam pressed his lips together. “Do you think that’s wise?”
“Business has been dreadful. I figure a room at Whitehall is preferable to a cell at Newgate when I’m arrested for debt.”
“It’s a different kind of prison, though, isn’t it?”
I felt a surge of annoyance. Sam said he understood why I might want to move back into the palace, but did he really? He’d apologized for leaving me, but I didn’t think he had any idea how much his absence had affected my existence. I realized that despite my assertion that I was no longer angry with him, I did, in fact, retain a good amount of resentment that would take a while to diminish.
I drank my remaining brandy. “Things are different between Charles and me now, but of course, how could you know that?”
Sam put his hand on my arm. “‘Twas not my intent to offend you.”
It felt odd defending Charles to Sam when I had the very same concerns myself. Still, I didn’t like being criticized by him, especially when he hadn’t been around to help me when I needed him most.
We were interrupted by a knock. I opened the door and Alice said, “His Majesty’s messenger is here, my lady.”
“Thank you, Alice.” Grateful to escape the conversation, I handed her my cup and headed toward the door.
* * *
“Have you come to a decision?” Charles asked.
We were in his bed, our legs a-tangle in the blankets. Despite the fact that we’d just lain together, I felt anxious, thinking about Susanna and Sam.
“Not yet,” I told him, rising onto my elbows. “I’d like some more time to think on it.”
He frowned. “Take all of the time you need.”
“Thank you, darling.” I rested my cheek against the hard flesh of his arm. “I should tell you, Sam’s returned.”
“Has he? Well, that’s good to hear. I know you were worried about him. He can reside here with you, if he likes. There’s plenty of room in the servants’ quarters.”
This was a concession on Charles’s part, for he’d never had any particular fondness for Sam. He, like so many others, misunderstood our bond and was sometimes jealous. But though I cared for Sam, the king had no cause for concern. We’d never been lovers—in the first place Sam was not given to romance, and in the second he preferred men to women on those rare occasions when the need for companionship arose.
“It’s not only that,” I continued. “I haven’t spoken of this before because I wasn’t certain where it would lead to and I don’t want to quarrel. But recently, a girl claiming to be my brother’s daughter came to my home.”
Charles laughed. “I’ll be damned. I didn’t know Lucian had a bastard, though I don’t know why it should surprise me.”
“No, she says she’s Adam’s daughter.”
This took Charles aback. “Adam had a daughter?”
For a time, Charles had been on friendly terms with Adam. He admired my brother’s work as a goldsmith and commissioned many pieces from Sir Richard, both jewelry and decorative items, requesting specifically that Adam craft them. But after Charles and I began our affair, Adam avoided Whitehall as much as he could and disliked speaking to the king at all.
“It was perplexing, as you can imagine. I still don’t know if it’s true. She ran away before I could get more information out of her. But tonight, I saw her at the Bear Garden in the company of a man named Tom Clarke. Have you heard of him?”
Charles shook his head.
“There�
�s no reason why you should have, but Sam says he has a criminal history.”
“You’re worried about this girl,” he said, touching my shoulder. “I can see that.”
“I am,” I admitted. “She might be my niece, Charles. But that’s not the worst of it. She told me that Adam didn’t die of the plague, as we’ve always believed. She says he was murdered.”
“Good God!”
“Do you think it’s possible?”
“Is it possible that Adam was murdered and the secret was kept all these years?” Charles raised his hand to his forehead and rubbed it. “Anything is possible, Isabel. The city was in chaos for almost a year. But is it likely? No, I don’t think it is.” He hugged me close. “I know it was terrible for you to come home after you learned of his death. It was an awful time for all of us. I hated watching my subjects suffer, but there was nothing I could do. If God couldn’t save them, how could I?”
I pulled away from him a little. “But you didn’t watch them suffer, Charles. You and the court went to Salisbury and then on to Oxford.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Would you have had me stay in London, perhaps to suffer the same fate as Adam?”
I sighed. Why was I trying to provoke an argument with Charles? I honestly held no ill will toward him for leaving the city as so many others had done and as Adam should’ve done. God’s blood, he was the king, of course he couldn’t risk staying.
I caressed his arm. “I don’t mean to accuse. I know you agonized about it.”
“Truly, I did.”
“Were you aware that Adam might’ve done business with Benjamin Stowe? I found Stowe’s name and address among Adam’s things.”
“How could I possibly know something like that?”
I shrugged. “I’m just trying to fit the pieces together. Do you recall the last time you saw Adam?”
“I don’t,” he said. “It was such a long time ago. But I do remember the last piece he made for me. It’s one of my favorites.”
He raised himself from the bed and I moved away so he could get up. He went to his closet, naked, and retrieved something from the closet and brought it to me. It was a large gold pendant, about four inches long and two inches wide, set with diamonds, emeralds and pearls. The letters CR, for Charles Rex, were entwined in the center of it and surrounded by delicate gold curlicues. It was unmistakably one of Adam’s pieces, but just the same, I turned it over to see his maker’s mark stamped on the back.
“It might’ve been one of the last pieces he made,” I said.
“Perhaps,” Charles said. “I don’t imagine there was much work commissioned during the worst of the plague.”
I gave it back to Charles. “There was none more talented with a forge and a hammer, ’tis certain.”
He ran his finger over the delicate filigree of the pendant. “Indeed.” He gave it one last caress then slipped the chain over my head, gently allowing it to rest around my neck.
“No, Charles. I can’t.”
“You should have it.” He raised my hand to his lips and kissed my fingers. “I know you must find out what happened to Adam. I won’t stand in your way. But don’t forget, I’m waiting for you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Thursday, 16 January
Charles had never given me a piece of jewelry so valuable. Instinctively, I hugged my cloak close around me on the ride home, for the weight of it against my chest made me nervous. What if thieves set upon me? I locked it up in my jewelry box as soon as I arrived at the house, intending to take it to my goldsmith, Francis Blanchard, for safekeeping.
My first priority, however, was finding Susanna—or Kitty, if that was her name—and Tom Clarke. The following morning, I asked Sam if he would make some inquiries among his former associates to see if they knew anything about their whereabouts. He readily agreed. The air between us was still uneasy, and I think he appreciated the opportunity to help without having to spend the day with me.
In the meantime, I needed to learn more about the girl’s mother. Charlotte accompanied me to the Old Bailey courthouse to see if the session papers recording Ann Sutton’s conviction and transportation to America were available. I had little hope—in the first place I knew only the approximate dates it would’ve occurred and in the second, the original Sessions House had been destroyed in the Great Fire and rebuilt only a few years ago. Like my old parish church, it was unlikely the records had survived.
A trial was in progress at the courthouse when we arrived. The ground floor of the building was without a wall on one side in order to prevent the spread of gaol fever suffered by the prisoners held next door in Newgate Prison. On this cold day, judges and jurors alike were buttoned up in heavy wool coats and scarves, while the prisoners themselves were held in the courtyard, shivering from their lack of proper clothing.
I hurried upstairs to the first floor to escape the cold. It had been a few months since I’d last been at the courthouse, but when I arrived, I recognized Mr. Turpin, the clerk who’d assisted me on a previous visit. “Good day, Lady Wilde,” he said. “What can I help you with today?”
“Good day to you, Mr. Turpin. I’d like to see the sessions papers of a woman named Ann Sutton. She was convicted in the spring of 1666 for stealing a loaf of bread and transported to America as punishment.”
“Oh dear. I’m not certain I’ll be able to help. Nearly everything was destroyed when the Sessions House burned.”
“I was afraid of that. Did any at all survive?”
“A portion of the records were kept in another building, so there might be something among them. But it will take me some time to look. Can you come back tomorrow afternoon?”
“I don’t mind waiting.”
“I’m quite sorry but I don’t have time to do a thorough search now. It must wait until my replacement comes this afternoon.”
“Might I have a look myself?”
I could see his patience beginning to wane. “I’m quite sorry,” he said, tapping his foot. “That’s simply not allowed.” He took up his quill and found a fresh sheet of paper. “Now, tell me again precisely what you want.”
I repeated my request but when I mentioned that Ann had been convicted of stealing a loaf of bread and transported to America for the crime, he paused.
“Transported for the crime of stealing a loaf of bread? Are you certain of that?”
“It’s what I was told.”
“It’s unlikely she would’ve been penalized so harshly if it were her first offense.”
“Perhaps it wasn’t her first,” I said. Susanna claimed her mother had been an orphan, raised in a poorhouse. It wasn’t unreasonable to think she might’ve resorted to theft more than once.
“When was her arrest?” Turpin asked.
“It would’ve been in the spring of 1666. April, or perhaps early May.”
Turpin peered at me over his spectacles and tsked. “With so little information, I doubt very much that I’ll be able to find anything useful.”
“Nevertheless, I’d be obliged if you’d check,” I said. “I’ll be back tomorrow around this time.”
* * *
Chances were slim that Turpin would turn anything up in his search. But there were other things I could learn about Ann Sutton. After I left the Old Bailey, I traveled to the Pool of London to see if I could find out which ship she’d traveled on to America.
The river was crowded with ships, some docked and ready for customs inspection while others waited for unloading clearance. The port area was one of the more unsavory districts of the city, and Charlotte instinctively huddled closer to me as we made our way down to the quays. It did little to subdue the dockworkers’ suggestive whistles and purposeful shoves.
Still, we made it to the dock master’s office relatively unscathed. It was a large, unadorned b
uilding positioned just east of London Bridge. We entered to find a shipmaster arguing with the desk clerk about the fees he’d been levied for his cargo. Both men halted when they saw us and the clerk said, “Good day, madam. May I help you?”
“Carry on, gentlemen,” I said. “I’ll wait.”
The shipmaster held a paper in his hand and shook it under the clerk’s nose. “There’s double the cargo listed here that I brought in. I’ll not pay a penny more than I owe, I assure you of that, and I won’t leave until this matter is settled.”
The clerk took it from his hand. “Where are you docked, sir?”
“Number three.”
The clerk examined the document, made a notation and handed it back. “Go wait with your ship and I’ll send someone out to resolve the matter.”
“Oh no, you won’t. I’ve been through this before. You’ll have me waiting out there all night before someone gets to me.”
“Well, we are busy, sir.”
“I won’t budge from this spot until you call somebody.”
I gave Charlotte a sideways glance. She raised her eyebrows at me and I regretted my insistence that the shipmaster finish his business before me.
“Captain Arliss,” the clerk said. “I’m very sorry but all my men are otherwise engaged. If you’ll just wait with your ship—”
“Trying to swindle others, are they?” Arliss growled.
The clerk breathed in through his nose then let it out slowly. “We all serve the crown, Captain. Now, if you’re implying that His Majesty is a cheat—”
Arliss retreated. “No, no, of course not. Well, if you promise to send someone out quickly I’ll be on my way.”
